Our current use of AI in higher education involves automating parts (and at times the whole) of the human decision-making process. Where there is automation there is standardization. Where there are decisions, there are values. As a consequence, we can think of one of the functions of AI as the standardization of values. Depending on what your values are, and the extent to which they are reflected by algorithms as they are deployed, this may be more or less a good or bad thing.

Augmenting Human Decision-Making

An example of how AI is being used to automate parts of the decision-making process is through nudging. According to Thaler and Sunstein, the concept of nudging is rooted in an ethical perspective that they term ‘libertarian paternalism.’ Wanting to encourage people to behave in ways that are likely to benefit them, but not also wanting to undermine human freedom of choice (which Thaler, Sunstein, and many others view as an unequivocal good), nudging aims to structure environments so as to increase the chances that human beings will freely make the ‘right decisions.’ In higher education, a nudge could be something as simple as an automated alert reminding a student to register for the next semester or begin the next assignment. It could be an approach to instructional design meant to increase a student’s level of engagement in an online course. It could be student-facing analytics meant to promote increased reflection about one’s level of interaction in a discussion board. Nudges don’t have to involve AI (a grading rubric is a great example of a formative assessment practice designed to increase the salience of certain values at the expense of others), but what AI allows us to do is to scale and standardize nudges in a way that was, until recently, unimaginable.

Putting aside the obvious ‘having one’s cake and eating it too’ tension at the heart of the idea of libertarian paternalism, the fact of the matter is that a nudge functions by making decisions easier through the (at least partial) automation of the decision-making process. It serves to make choices easier my making some factors more salient than others, reducing an otherwise large and complex set of factors to a set that is much more manageable. The way a nudge works is by universalizing a set of values by using them as criteria for pre-selecting relevant factors for use in the decision-making process.

I don’t want to say whether this is a good or a bad thing. It is happening, and it certainly brings with it the possibility of promoting a range of social goods. But it is important for us to recognize that values are involved. We need to be aware of, and responsible for, the values that we are choosing to standardize in a given nudge. And we need to constantly revisit those values to ensure that they are consistent with our views and in light of the impact on human behavior that they are designed to have.

Automating Human Decision-Making

An example of where AI is being used to automate the entire decision process is in chat bots. Chat bots make a lot of sense for institutions looking to increase efficiency. During the admissions process, for example, university call centers are bombarded with phone calls from students seeking answers to common questions. Call centers are expensive and so universities are looking for ways to reduce cost. But lower cost has traditionally meant decreased capacity, and if capacity isn’t sufficient to handle demand from students, institutions run the risk of losing the very students they are looking to admit. AI is helping institutions to scale their ability to respond to common student questions by, in essence, personalizing a student’s experience with a knowledge base. A chat bot is an interface. In contrast to automated nudges, which serve to augment human decision-making, chat bots automate the entire process, since they are (1) defining a situation, and (2) formulating a response, (3) without the need for human intervention.

What kinds of assumption do chat bots like this make about the humans they serve? First, they assume that the only reason a student is reaching out to the university is for information. While this may be the case for some, or even most, it may not be for all. In addition to information, a student may also be in need of reassurance (whether they realize it or not). For first generation students especially, they may not know what questions to ask in the first place, and may need to be encouraged to think about factors they may not have otherwise considered. There is a huge amount to gain from one-one-one contact with a human being, and these benefits are lost when an interaction is reduced to a single function. Subtlety and lateral thinking are not virtues of AI (at least not today).

This is not to say that chat bots are bad. The increased efficiency they bring to an institution means that an institution can invest in other ways that enhance the student experience. The increased satisfaction from students who no longer have to sit on hold for hours is also highly beneficial, not to mention that some students simply feel more comfortable asking what they think are ‘dumb questions’ when they know they are talking to a robot. But we also need to be aware of the specific values we assume through the use of these technologies, and the opportunities that we are giving up, including a diversity of perspective, inter-personal support, narrative/biographical interjection, personalized nudging based on the experience and intuition of an advisor, and the ability to co-create meaning.

Is AI in higher education a good thing? It certainly carries with it an array of goods, but the good it brings is certainly not unequivocal. Because it automates at least parts of the decision-making process, it involves the standardization of values in a way, and at a scale, that until now has not been possible.

AI is here to stay. It is a bell that we can’t unring. Knowing that AI functions through the automation of at least some parts of human decision-making, then, it is incumbent upon us to think carefully about our values, and to take responsibility for the ways (both expected and unanticipated) that the standardization of values through information technology will affect how we think about ourselves, others, and the world we cohabit.

How should we approach the evaluation of predictive models in higher education?

It is easy to fall into the trap of thinking that the goal of a predictive algorithm is to be as accurate as possible. But, as I have explained previously, the desire to increase the accuracy of a model for its own sake is one that fundamentally misunderstands the purpose of predictive analytics. The goal of predictive analytics in identifying at-risk students is not to ‘get it right,’ but rather to inform action. Accuracy is definitely important here, but it is not the most important, and getting hung up on academic conversations about a model can actually obscure its purpose and impede the progress we are able to make in support of student success.

Let’s take a hypothetical example. Consider a model with an accuracy of 70% in predicting a student’s chances of completing a course with a grade of C or higher. A confusion matrix representing this might look something like this:

Too much emphasis on model accuracy can lead to a kind of paralysis, or hesitation to reach out to students for fear that that model has misclassified them. Institutions might worry about students falling through the cracks because the model predicted they would pass when they actually failed. But what is worse? Acting wrongly? Or not acting at all?

Let’s consider this from the perspective of the academic advisor. In the absence of a predictive model, advisors may approach their task from one of the following two perspectives.

No proactive outreach – this is the traditional walk-in model of academic advising. We know that the students who are most likely to seek out an academic advisor are also among the most likely to succeed anyway. What this means is that an academic advisor will probably only see some portion of 40 students in the above scenario, and make very little impact since those students would probably do just fine without them.

Proactively reach out to everyone – we know that proactive advising works, so why not try and reach everyone? This would obviously be amazing! But institutions simply do not have the capacity to do this very well. With average advising loads of 450 students or more, it is impossible for advisors to reach out to all their students in time to ensure that they are on track and remain on track each semester. If an advisor only had the ability to see 50 students before week six of the semester, selected at random, only 25 of students (50%) seen would actually have been in need of academic support.

Compare the results of each of these scenarios with the results of an advisor who only reaches out to students that the algorithm has identified as being at-risk of failure. I this case, an advisor would only need to see 45 students, which means that they have greater time available to meet with each of them. True, only 30 of these students would truly be at risk of failing, but this is significantly greater than the number of at-risk students they would otherwise be able to meet with. There is, of course, no harm in meeting with students who are not actually at risk. Complemented by additional information about student performance and engagement, a trained academic advisor could also further triage students flagged as being at risk, and communicate with instructors to increase the accuracy and impact of outreach attempts.

What about the students who fail through the cracks? The students that the model predicts would be successful but who actually fail the course? This is obviously something we’d like to avoid, but 15% is far lower than the 60% that fall through in a traditional advising context, and the 25% that fall through using the scatter shot approach. Of course, this is an artificial example, describing an advisor who only makes outreach decisions on the basis of the recommendation produced by the predictive model. In actual fact, however, through a system like Blackboard Predict, advisors and faculty have access to additional information and communications tools to help them to fine tune their judgments and increase the accuracy and impact of outreach efforts even further.

What I hope this example underscores is that predictive analytics should be viewed as simply a tool. Prediction is not prophesy. It is an opportunity to have a conversation. Accuracy is important, but not to the point that modeling efforts get in the way of the actual interventions that drive student success. It is understandable that institutions might worry that a perceived lack of sufficient model accuracy by faculty and advisors might error confidence in the model that prevents them from taking action. It is therefore incredibly important that misunderstandings about the nature of prediction, predictive modeling, and action be addressed from the outset so that time and resources can be committed where they will make the greatest impact: in the development and implementation of high impact advising practices that use predictive analytics as a valuable source of information alongside others, including the kind of wisdom that comes through experience.

This is the second in my series on common misunderstandings about predictive analytics that hinder their adoption in higher education. Last week I talked about the language of predictive analytics. This week, I want to comment on another common misconception: that predictive analytics (and educational data mining more generally) is a social science. Read more

The greatest barrier to the widespread impact of predictive analytics in higher education is adoption. No matter how great the technology is, if people don’t use it effectively, any potential value is lost.

In the early stages of predictive analytics implementations at colleges and universities, a common obstacle comes in the form of questions that arise from some essential misunderstandings about data science and predictive analytics. Without a clear understanding of what predictive analytics are, how they work, and what they do, it is easy to establish false expectations. When predictive analytics fail to live up to these expectations, the result is disappointment, frustration, poor adoption, and a failure to fully actualize their potential value for student success.

This post is the first in a series of posts addressing common misunderstandings about data science that can have serious consequences for the success of an educational data or learning analytics analytics initiative in higher education. The most basic misunderstanding that people have is about the language of prediction. What do we mean by ‘predictive’ analytics, anyway?

Why is the concept of ‘Predictive Analytics’ so confusing?

The term ‘predictive analytics’ is used widely, not just in education, but across all knowledge domains. We use the term because everyone else uses it, but it is actually pretty misleading.

I have written about this at length elsewhere, but in nutshell the term ‘prediction’ has a long history of being associated with a kind of mystical access to true knowledge about future events in a deterministic universe. The history of the term is important, because it explains why many people get hung up on issues of accuracy, as if the goal of predictive analytics was to become something akin to the gold standard of a crystal ball. It also explains why others are immediately creeped out by conversations about predictive analytics in higher education, because the term ‘prediction’ carries with it a set of pretty heavy metaphysical and epistemological connotations. It is not uncommon in discussions of ethics and AI in higher education to hear comparisons between predictive analytics and the world of the film Minority Report (which is awesome), in which government agents are able to intervene and arrest people for crimes before they were committed. In these conversations, however, it is rarely remembered that Minority Report predictions were quasi-magical in origin, where predictive analytics involve computational power applied to incomplete information.

Predictive analytics are not magic, even if the language of prediction sets us up to think of it in this way. In The Signal an the Noise, Nate Silver suggests that we can begin to overcome this confusion by using the language of forecasting instead. Where the goal of prediction is to be correct, the goal of a forecast is to be prepared. I watch the weather channel, not because I want to know what the weather is going to be like, but because I want to know whether I need to pack an umbrella.

In higher education, it is unlikely that we will stop talking about predictive analytics any time soon. But it is important to shift our thinking and set our expectations along the lines of forecasting. When it comes to the early identification of at-risk students, our aim is not to be 100% accurate, and we are not making deterministic claims about a particular student’s future behavior. What we are doing is providing a forecast based on incomplete information about groups of students in the past so that instructors and professional advisors can take action. The goal of predictive analytics in higher education is to offer students an umbrella when the sky turns grey and there is a strong chance of rain.

In higher education, and in general, an increasing amount of attention is being paid to questions about the ethical use of data. People are working to produce principles, guidelines and ethical frameworks. This is a good thing.

Despite being well-intentioned, however, most of these projects are doomed to failure. The reason is that, amidst talk about arriving at an ethics, or developing an ethical framework, the terms ‘ethics’ and ‘framework’ are rarely well-defined from the outset. If you don’t have a clear understanding of your goal, you can’t define a strategy to achieve it, and you won’t know if you have reached it if you ever do.

As a foundation to future blog posts that I will write on the matter of ethics in AI, what I’d like to do is propose a couple of key definitions, and invite comment where my assumptions might not make sense.

What do we mean by ‘ethics’?

Ethics is hard to do. It is one of those five inter-related sub-disciplines of philosophy defined by Aristotle that also includes metaphysics, epistemology, aesthetics, and logic. To do ethics involves establishing a set of first principles, and developing a system for determining right action as a consequence of those principles. For example, if we presume the existence of a creator god that has given us some kind of access to true knowledge, then we can apply that knowledge to our day-to-day life as a guide to evaluating right or wrong courses of action. Or, instead of appealing to the transcendent, we might begin with certain assumptions about human nature and develop ethical guidelines meant to cultivate those essential and unique attributes. Or, if we decide that the limits of our knowledge preclude us from knowing anything about the divine, or even ourselves, except for the limits of our knowledge, there are ethical consequences of that as well. There are many approaches and variations here, but the key thing to understand is that ethics is hard. It requires us to be thoughtful about arriving at a set of first principles, being transparent, and systematically deriving ethical judgements as consequences of our metaphysical, epistemological, and logical commitments.

What ethics is NOT, is a set of unsystematicly articulated opinions about situations that make us feel uneasy. Unfortunately, when we read about ethics in data science, in education, and in general, this is typically what we end up with. Indeed, the field of education is particularly bad about talking about ethics (and of philosophy in general) in this way.

What do we mean by a ‘framework’?

The interesting thing about the language of frameworks is that it has the potential to liberate us from much of the heavy burden placed on us by ethical thinking. The reason for this is that the way this language is used in relation to ethics — as in an ‘ethical framework’ — already presupposes a specific philosophical perspective: Pragmatism.

What is Pragmatism? I’m going to do it a major disservice here, but it is a perspective that rejects our ability to know ‘truth’ in any transcendent or universal way, and so affirms that the truth in any given situation is a belief that ‘works.’ In other words, the right course of action is the one with the best practical set of consequences. (There’s a strong and compelling similarity here between Pragmatism and Pyrrhonian Skepticism, but won’t go into that here…except to note that, in philosophy, everything new is actually really old).

The reason that ethical frameworks are pragmatic is that they do not seek to define sets of universal first principles, but instead set out to establish methods or approaches for arriving at the best possible result at a given time, and in a given place.

The idea of an ethical framework is really powerful when discussing the human consequences of technological innovation. Laws and culture are constantly changing, and they differ radically around the globe. Were we to set out to define an ethics of educational data use, it could be a wonderful and fruitful academic exercise. A strong undergraduate thesis, or perhaps even a doctoral dissertation. But it would never be globally adopted, if for no other reason than because it would rest on first principles, the very definition of which is that they cannot themselves be justified. There will always be differences in opinion.

But an ethical framework CAN claim universality in a way that an ethics cannot, because it defines an approach to weighing a variety of factors that may be different from place to place, and that may change over time, but in a way that nevertheless allows people to make ethical judgments that work here and now. Where differences of opinion create issues for ethics, they are a valuable source of information for frameworks, which aim to balance and negotiate differences in order to arrive at the best possible outcome.

Laying my cards in the table (as if they weren’t on the table already), I am incredibly fond of the framework approach. Ethical frameworks are good things, and we should definitely strive to create an ethical frameworks for AI in education. We have already seen several attempts, and these have played an important role in getting the conversation started, but I see the language of ‘ethical framework’ being used with a lack of precision. The result has been some helpful, but rather ungrounded and unsystematic sets of claims pertaining to how data should be used in certain situations. These are not frameworks. Nor are they ethics. They are merely opinions. These efforts have been great for promoting public dialogue, but we need something more if we are going to make a difference.

Only by being absolutely clear from the outset about what an ethical framework is, and what it is meant to do, can we begin to make a significant and coordinated impact on law, public policy, data standards, and industry practices.

I was recently interviewed for a (forthcoming) piece in eLearn Magazine. Below are my responses to a couple of key questions, reproduced here in their entirety.

eLearn: You have a Ph.D. in Philosophy. Could you share with us a little about your history and your work with learning analytics?

TH: What drives me in my capacity of a philosopher and social theorist is an interest in how changes in information technology affect how we think about society, and in the implications our changing conceptions of society have on the role of education.

I think about how the rapid increase in our access to information as a result of the internet has led to the advent of what Zygmunt Bauman has called ‘liquid modernity.’ In contrast to the world as recently as a half century ago — a world defined by hard and fast divisions of labor, career tracks, class distinctions, power hierarchies, and relationships — the world we live in now is far more fluid: relationships are unstable, changes in job and career are rapid, and the rate of technology change is increasing exponentially. The kind of training that made sense in the 1950’s not only doesn’t work, but it renders students ill-prepared to survive, let alone thrive, in the 21st century.

When I think about our liquid modern world, I am comforted to know that this is not the first time we have lived in a world of constant change. We experienced it in Ancient Greece, and we experienced it during the Renaissance. In both of these periods, the role of the teacher was incredibly important. The Sophists were teachers. So were the Humanists. For both of these groups, the task of education was to train citizens to survive and thrive under conditions of constant change by cultivating ingenuity, or the ability to mobilize a variety of disparate elements to solve specific problems in the here and now. For them, education was less about training than it was about cultivating the imagination, and encouraging the development of a kind of practical wisdom that could only be gained through experience.

It is common among people on analytics circles to use a quote apocryphally attributed to Peter Drucker: “What gets measured gets managed.” Indeed, when we look at the history of analytics, we can find its origins in the modern period immediately following industrialization, concerned with optimizing efficiency through standardization and specialization. Something that has worried me is whether or not there is a mismatch between analytics – an approach to measurement with roots in early modernity – and the demands of education in the 21st century, when students don’t need to be managed, so much as prepared to adapt.

Is learning analytics compatible with 21st century education?

I believe the answer is yes, but it requires us to think carefully about what data mean, and the ways in which data are exposed. In essence, it means appreciating the analytics do not represent an objective source of truth. They are not a replacement for human judgment. Rather, they represent important artifacts that need to be considered along with a variety of other sources of knowledge (including the wisdom that comes from experience) in order to solve particular problems here and now. In this, I am really excited about the kind of reflective approaches to learning analytics being explored and championed by people like John Fritz, Alyssa Wise, Bodong Chen, Simon Buckingham Shum, Andrew Gibson, and others

eLearn: You wrote in an article for Blackboard Blog that “analytics take place at the intersection of information and human wisdom”. What does it mean to consider humanistic values when dealing with data? Why is it important?

TH: I mean this in two ways. On the one hand, analytics is nothing more and nothing less than the visual display of quantitative information. The movement from activity, to capturing that activity in the form of data, to transforming that data into information, to its visual display in the form of tables, charts, and graphs involves human judgment at every stage. As an interpretive activity, the visual display of quantitative information involves decisions about what is important. But it is also a rhetorical activity, designed to support particular kinds of decision in particular kinds of ways. Analytics is a form of communication. It is not neutral, and always embeds sets of particular values. Hence, it is incumbent upon researchers, practitioners, and educational technology vendors to be thoughtful about the values that they bring to bear on their analytics, and also to be transparent about those values so that they can inform the interpretation of analytics by others.

On the other hand, to the extent that analytics are designed to support human decision-making, they are not a replacement for human judgment. They are an important form of information, but they still need to be interpreted. The most effective institutions are those with experiences and prudent practitioners who can carefully consider the data within the context of deep knowledge and experience about students, institutional practices, cultural factors, and other things.

As artifact, analytics is the result of meaning-making, and it informs meaning-making.

eLearn: Do you think that institutions are already taking advantage of all the benefits that learning analytics can offer? What are their main challenges?

TH: No. The field of learning analytics is really only six years old. We began with access to data and a sense of inflated expectation.

The initial excitement and sense of inflated expectation actually represents a significant challenge. In those early days, institutions, organizations, and vendors alike promise and expected a lot. But no one really knew what they had, or what was reasonable to expect.

Mike Sharkey and I recently wrote a series of pieces for EDUCAUSE and Next Generation Learning on the analytics hype cycle, in which we argued that we have entered the trough of disillusionment and have begun to ascend the slope of enlightenment (see HERE & HERE). Many early adopter institutions were excited, invested, and were hurt. We are at an exciting moment right now because institutions, media, and vendors are beginning to develop far more realistic expectations. We know more, and can now start getting stuff done.

Another major challenge is adoption. It’s easy to buy a technology. It’s harder to get people to use it, and even harder to get people to use it effectively. Overcoming the adoption challenge is one that involves strong leadership, good marketing, and excellent faculty development. It also requires courage. Change is hard, and initially even the most successful institutions encountered significant flak. But what we see time and time again that a well-executed adoption plan that emphasizes value while assuring safety (should never be punitive) very quickly overcomes negativity and sees broad-based success.

Lastly, a major challenge that institutions have is being overwhelmed by the data, and losing sight of the questions and challenges they what to address. It is important to invest in data access so that you have the material you need to understand and address barriers when they arise, but questions should come first.

In a recent interview with John Jantsch for the Duct Tape Marketing podcast, Danny Iny argued that the difference between information and education essentially comes down to responsibility. Information is simply about presentation. Here are some things you might want to know. Whether and the extent to which you come to know them is entirely up to you.

In contrast, education implies that the one presenting information also takes on a degree of responsibility for ensuring that it is learned. Education is a relationship in which teachers and learners agree to share in the responsibility for the success of the learning experience.

This distinction, argues Iny, accounts for why books are so cheep and university is so expensive. Books merely present information, while universities take on an non-trivial amount of responsibility for what is learned, and how well.

(It is a shame that many teachers don’t appreciate this distinction, and their role as educators. I will admit that, when I was teaching, I didn’t fully grasp the extent of my responsibility for the success of my students. I wish I could go back and reteach those courses as an educator instead of as a mere informer.)

If we accept Iny’s distinction between information and education, what are the implications for what we today call educational technologies, or ‘Ed Tech’? As we look to the future of technology designed to meet specific needs of teachers and learners, is educational technology something that we wish to aspire to, or avoid?

Accepting Iny’s definition, I would contend that what we call educational technologies today are not really educational technologies at all. The reason is that neither they nor the vendors that maintain them take specific responsibility for the success or failure of the individual students they touch. Although vendors are quick to take credit for increased rates of student success, taking credit is not the same as taking responsibility. In higher education, the contract is between the student and the institution. If the student does not succeed, responsibility is shared between the two. No technology or ed tech vendor wants to be held accountable for the success of an individual student. In the absence of such a willingness or desire to accept a significant degree of responsibility for the success of particular individuals, what we have are not educational technologies, but rather information technologies designed for use in educational contexts. Like books…but more expensive.

With the advent of AI, however, we are beginning to see an increasing shift as technologies appear to take more and more responsibility for the learning process itself. Adaptive tutoring. Automated nudging. These approaches are designed to do more than present information. Instead, they are designed to promote learning itself. Should we consider these educational technologies? I think so. And yet they are not treated as such, because vendors in these areas are still unwilling (accountability is tricky) or unable (because of resistance from government and institutions) to accept responsibility for individual student outcomes. There is no culpability. That’s what teachers are for. In the absence of a willingness to carry the burden of responsibility for a student’s success, even these sophisticated approaches are still treated as information technologies, when they should actually be considered far more seriously.

As we look to the future, it does seem possible that the information technology platforms deployed in the context of education will, indeed, increasingly become and be considered full educational technologies. But this can only happen if vendors are willing to accept the kind of responsibility that comes with such a designation, and teachers are willing to share responsibility with technologies capable of automating them out of a job. This possible future state of educational technology may or may not be inevitable. It also may or may not be desirable.